Letters I'll Never Send
by Kiwi Werewolf
Summary: Wybie's letters to Coraline. Something that started off as a Writer's Block deterrent and and then just kind of... grew...


Tuesday

Dear Coraline,

Today you invited Norman to our weekly fishing trip down by the river. You forgot the worms again but that was okay because I found extra. Norman didn't really talk to me much, but you talked to both of us, which was nice. I preferred it when it was just you and me, but you seemed really happy, so I guess it was okay. Norman has been your friend for maybe a year, ever since he moved into the Pink Palace with his family, so it's not like he's a stranger. I had something really important to tell you, but I guess it can wait. I'll tell you tomorrow on our camping trip. Speaking of the camping trip, I found the old gas cooker. It was in Grandma's garage, and I looked for it for almost an hour. Then I spent all my week's pocket money on buying junk food and stuff for us. I didn't get any Fanta because, even though it's my favourite drink, you don't like it. I've been looking forewords to spending time with you on this camping trip for a long time, and even though it is a long way away, my hands are shaking in excitement just a little as I write this, which is why my handwriting is sort of wonky.

I love you. Now I can put this in the pile of letters I'll never send.

-Wybie

Wednesday

Dear Coraline,

Today you showed up a few hours late for the camp, and when you showed up, Norman was with you. You guys kept giggling and cuddling each other. You barely said a word to me the whole night. You and Norman ate all the junk food (turns out Norman loves Fanta, and you two were sharing that big bottle of it, remember?). After that you two spent hours gazing at the stars in each other's arms. Normally, if it was just me and you like it should have been, we would be sitting in the tent telling horror stories. While you were out with Norman, I was inside the tent, staring at the taped-up hole we made in the ceiling when you tackled me that day, when I was carrying this same tent to our old camping spot, and it ripped on the edge of the rock I banged my head on.

When it started to rain I found out you guys had brought your own tent, which you slept in together. You guys went inside without even saying goodnight to me. I was going to come into your tent to say goodnight, like I always say goodnight, but I thought you probably didn't want me there, so I didn't come. I watched you get into your tent with him. I saw him kiss you in the rain. That made me really sad, but it made you happy, so looking back I guess it was okay.

I still have something really important to tell you, and I really wanted to tell you earlier, but I guess it can wait another day, maybe. It'll have to.

I love you. Now I can put this in the pile of letters I'll never send.

-Wybie

Thursday

Dear Coraline,

Today I phoned you and asked you if you could come to my house. I said I had something really urgent to tell you. You said that you were coming, that you'd be here in maybe half an hour later.

I rang you at 3:41pm.

The time is now 11:52pm and you still haven't arrived. I stopped kidding myself that you were going to come a while ago. I rang your house again at 4:28pm and your mother said you were at Norman's apartment.

I really need to tell you something. It is very important. I'm getting more urgent now. I haven't been at school for a while now, but I'll wait outside the school gates for you tomorrow, so you have to see me, have to listen to me. I'm running out of time to tell you. I know I'm not your best friend, but you are mine. I've never met anyone like you before. You are the most brave, funny, amazing girl I've ever met in my life.

I love you. Now I can put this in the pile of letters I'll never send.

-Wybie

Friday

Dear Coraline,

Today I waited outside the school for you for an hour until I was forced to admit you weren't coming. I saw you come this way with Norman until I almost got to you, and we made eye contact and I waved, but then you seemed to forget something, and you and Norman turned and went back the other way. I remember wondering what you might have forgotten. You didn't come back my way after that. Only now as I write this it has occurred to me that maybe you were actually just avoiding me because you didn't want to talk to me. I already know you prefer talking to Norman, and that's okay. I thought that friends didn't ignore each other just because they made new friends, but I guess I was wrong.

Damn. I'm sorry. That sounded like I was mad at you. I'm not, I promise. I could never get mad at you. I'm just mad because I really need to tell you that really important thing, and I'm running out of time so fast – it's Friday already! Two days to go. If you just let me tell you what was happening, I swear I could leave you alone like I know you want me to.

Two minutes alone with you. Please. That's all I'm asking.

I love you. Now I can put this in the pile of letters I'll never send.

-Wybie

Saturday

Dear Coraline

Today I went over to your house. I brought you that pair of my mother's old pink and blue gloves that I described to you on Monday that you said you liked. They were something that reminded me of my dead mother, but I guess now they can remind you of me. If you want.

You were actually there at the house. So was Norman, however, and about six of your other friends. You had a party without me. From the looks of the bags and stuff in the lounge, it was a sleepover. That hurt a little, that you didn't invite me.

When I came in, all the girls there started snickering a little at me. I felt very self-conscious. When I found you, you were on the couch with Norman. Your arms were wrapped around his shoulders like you were a koala bear.

I hope you don't mind – I hid a tape recorder in my jacket while I talked to you. Just so that I could have a recording of your voice that I could listen to, and it would remind me of you. And even though it hurts me and the tears are rolling down my face even as I write this, and there's a horrible sinking, cold, numb feeling all through my body, I can't stop listening to the recording. I'm not going to write it down for you. You know what you said and I know what I said. And what I said sure as hell wasn't about the thing I had to tell you.

The last thing you said to me today is the line that's been echoing all around my skull. I can't get it out. I'm trapped. I'll write this line down. Maybe it'll help to get the demons out. Probably not though.

The last thing you said to me was, "I wish I never met you."

I'm not in the mood to write more.

I loved you. Now I can put this in the pile of letters I'll never send.

-Wybie

Sunday

Dear Coraline,

I don't know why I'm bothering to keep up this pointless stream of letters to you. I've started writing this one letter about six times, but I think this will be the last I'll write. If I can't write it down now, I never will.

The message I needed to tell you was this:

I have a large brain tumour near an important part of my brain. I wasn't listening for most of the medical babble as to all the gory details, but it isn't looking good for me. I'm writing this at 9:26am, at Oregon Hospital. Surgery starts in exactly thirty four minutes. I'm going to be awake throughout the operation. I'm very nervous at this point. I'm drinking Coke and not Fanta because Coke reminds me of you more.

The doctors privately told Grandma that they thought I had about a 35% chance of making it through this one. They thought I wasn't listening. They thought I was asleep. I wasn't.

So that's why I needed to tell you the message so urgently. I really wanted to spend some quality time with you in probably my last days, but oh well. You're happy. Maybe it'll be easier for you this way.

I guess I'll end up sending these letters anyway.

In this last letter I thought I'd never send, I'm putting my mother's pink and blue gloves in. That's why the envelope is so big. You didn't give me a chance to give them to you yesterday, and I didn't want to give them to you either because I was mad at you.

I forgive you now. I want you to know that, just in case you feel guilty. Goodbye, I guess. I hope you grow up to be an artist like you told me you wanted to, that night so long ago. I hope you have two girls and name them Jaylee and Brianna like you said you wanted to.

So, for the last time I'll ever write these words:

I love you. Now I can put this in the pile of letters I thought I'd never send.

-Wybie


End file.
